


Still No Rest for the Wicked

by j520j



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gift Fic, M/M, Madness, Maxlie, Spiritual Sucessor Fic, background Charlie/Maxwell, maxwil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j520j/pseuds/j520j
Summary: The survivors are working actively to make their lives easier and more comfortable at Constant. But when everything seems to be going well, Wilson and Maxwell start silly disagreements. Do the two gentlemen really hate each other so much... or is it just an act?This fic is a 'continuation' to another wonderful fic: No Rest for the Wicked by journalxxx!
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [journalxxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/journalxxx/gifts).
  * Inspired by [No Rest for the Wicked](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17125508) by [journalxxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/journalxxx/pseuds/journalxxx). 



> Although it's not mandatory, for you to understand this fic I advise you to read the four available chapters of "No Rest for the Wicked" by journalxxx. 
> 
> And if you loved that fic as much as I do, please... manage your expectations! ^_^' Unfortunately, I'm not as good a writer as journalxxx (and English is not my native language, though) but I tried to write this because I really enjoyed the early world-building! Hope you like it too! If not my fic, at least the amazing work that inspired it!

The nine survivors, Wilson, Willow, Wolfgang, Wigfrid, Woodie, Wendy, Webber, Wickerbotton and Maxwell, were all in a circle around the unlit fire pit. The scientist was at the center and he looked happy as a clam.

"So, it's decided." Wilson gave affectionate pat in Chester. "We will split into three groups, set up fake camps, and thus prevent the deerclops from destroying our main camp."

"I still think it's stupid." Maxwell said, crossing his arms. He was wearing his old winter coat, with a rabbit fur collar. The scientist still didn’t know how he had recovered it, since the garment should have disintegrated along with the magician in the throne room. “We should stay and prepare an offensive against the creature! If we don't, it will be back next winter!”

"Maxwell, not again." the shorter man scratched his beard - which he always grew when winter came - with displeasure. “We’re not in a position to challenge a deerclops at the moment. If WX-78 were with us, we might have a chance, it has great power to absorb damage while we all do the offensive. But you remember what happened last winter, don't you? Two of us were killed, including _you!_ And everyone else was injured! And in the end, we can only run away for our lives!”

“We were caught on a bad occasion, we had no resources and I didn’t have enough nightmare fuel. Today, I could summon two duelists at the same time, and I have both my armor and sword ready for use!”

"No, Maxwell." the scientist shook his head. “We already took a vote and the decision to make the fake camps to cheat the creature won. In fact, only you and Wigfrid voted for us to stay and fight the monster.”

"Dön’t höld it against me." said the actress, grabbing the spear with both hands. She also looked sad about the group's decision. "I just believed it wöuld be a glöriöus battle if we stayed and föught."

“Ah, of course! The marvelous democracy!” the magician said, in a tone of disdain. “The wonderful system that places important decisions in the hands of low-skilled people! It matters little if more work and effort makes a group evolve, if the majority votes for being lazy and fleeing.”

"And would you rather we go back to your Absolute monarchy, O king?!" the scientist spat, taking a step towards the taller man. He hated it when Maxwell used his haughtiness to antagonize the group, especially in a serious situation like that one. “You’d certainly prefer that you were on the throne, ruling Constant again! Well, I don't remember our life being much easier under your command...! ”

"Hey, stop this!" Willow intervened, placing herself between the two men. She pointed a finger at each of them. “Maxwell, don't be a bad loser! And Wilson, stop falling for all the cheap provocations that throw you in the face!”

"Very well said, lass." Wickerbotton smiled, adjusting her glasses. “Gentlemen, you can leave your friendly spat for later. At the moment, we need to get our supplies, fill our backpacks and decide how the groups will be separated, right?”

 _Friendly spat?!_ the scientist thought, with a grimace. The librarian always used strange words when referring to the discussions that the two men had. Shaking his head, he decided to concentrate on preparing things while the day was clear. He went towards his tent while the spider-boy followed him.

“Okay, let's put some stones inside you, Chester! Good boy!" Webber placed the rocks inside the adorable and bizarre creature. “Hey, Wilson! How will the groups split?”

"Oh, I'm still thinking." the scientist murmured, as he checked the torches. “You and Wendy are staying with Wolfgang and Wigfrid, of course! For the two are the strongest and can protect you best. I think Wickerbotton will stay with Woodie, as she is the most suitable person to calm him down when he is in the form of a werebeaver. Willow maybe stay with me and... oh, I forgot! She said she will stay with Woodie too, as she likes to be near firewood to burn it whenever possible. So, I believe there are just... ”

Wilson paused, quickly realizing who were the two people left in the equation.

"... me and Maxwell." he took a long breath.

"Why can't we all be together?" the boy asked, as he continued to place items inside Chester.

“Our goal this winter is to create small, disposable camps. When the deerclops appear in one of them, we will be able to abandon them without remorse. And it’s easier to survive in small camps if the group is smaller. It’s also easier to keep an eye on a few people when you are on the run.”

"Hmm." Webber looked at the floor thoughtfully. "We don't like deerclops, it's scary!"

"It's really scary." the scientist said, casually as he checked the food in the stock.

"It's so scary that... that..." the boy looked up, looking at the tent roof. "... that when we dream of him, it seems that nightmares arise on the day's moon."

"Yes, some nightmares are really terrible." Wilson murmured, trying to ward off the thoughts that this topic brought him.

"It seems that it’s already close..."

"What? The nightmares?"

"Uh, Wilson?"

The scientist froze, for at that moment he also had the impression of having heard something.

 _No!_ panic started to overwhelm him. _No no no no! How is it possible?! It's too early!_

During the whole time he was in that place, Wilson observed certain patterns in Constant that he thought he could trust. One of them was the duration of the seasons, which used to be a maximum of 25 days. And that certain giant monsters appeared on specific dates. Like the deerclops, which usually made its unpleasant visits only in late winter, or at least in the middle of the season.

It looks like he was wrong.

He went out into the middle of the camp and realized that all the other survivors had already heard the scary howls. Everyone looked at each other without reaction. None of them was expecting the creature to attack anytime soon and in the main camp, the one they had worked so hard to build together in the past few months. They were all terrified.

"To arms!" Maxwell's battle cry woke everyone out of their trance. “Now we have no choice! Take up arms, you fools! We need to defend our ground!”

"Maxwell!" Wilson's initial fear was replaced by anger. A paranoid thought crossed his mind. "If you have anything to do with this early attack by the deerclops, so help me—!"

"Not now, pal!" the magician snarled. Fury was evident in his black eyes. “If you start with another stupid theory about my powers, I swear I will start by cutting off _your_ head! I'd rather face the deerclops without a pair of hands than with you pestering me!”

"Ugh, this isn't over yet!" despite what he had just said, the scientist soon concluded that it was silly. Of course, Maxwell had no way of controlling the coming of that monster, he no longer had this power.

Everyone in the camp was preparing for battle. That last autumn was fruitful and there were weapons and armor for everyone, even children - but even so, Wickerbotton made sure to keep them behind her, the librarian being the last line of defense. Wigfrid started singing a battle song while two shadow puppets took their places.

Wilson hated to admit it, but the magician was right. The group was more prepared than ever to face any threat.

At least, any predictable threat.

The ground began to shake. Maybe a little too much. And soon the group of survivors noticed the deerclops coming from the left.

And a second one coming from the right.

 _Two?!_ Wilson's eyes widened in disbelief. During all the time he was at Constant he didn't even imagine that there was more than one deerclops. He also never imagined that two could attack at the same time. At that moment, while everyone in the group was still shocked, a scary conversation he had with Maxwell on the children's birthday came to mind:

_“Wounds of the soul are much more devastating than those of the flesh. When this idyllic period of peace will inevitably end and corpses will start to pile up, loneliness will be a heavier burden than ever, and loss will only add to its weight. That kind of pain is definitely something I can see Them enjoying.”_

"Fuck!" Maxwell may have remembered the conversation as well, for there was fear and hatred in his eyes. And also something else, deep down: the bitter joy of realizing that he was right all along. “Wolfgang! Woodie! Wilson! Wendy! To me! Let's take the one on the right! The rest, take the one on the left! ”

"What?!" the woodcutter looked shocked. "Do you want children to fight t—?!"

"Move! Now!” the Englishman cut him sharply, his voice more resounding and authoritarian than ever. “Before they get too close to the camp!”

The deerclops howled and advanced, as did Constant's unfortunate soldiers. Wolfgang was shaking his ham bat and was the first to strike the monster on the right. This one made an attack with its claws that knocked down a nearby tree. Woodie attacked with Lucy and Wilson came forward with his spear, shouting to try to mask his fear. He even cast a concerned look at Wendy, who had just taken his flower out of her pocket, summoning her twin to battle.

“Don't worry about me, Abigail. There are only two types of people in this place. ” the girl said, holding the spear in her hands with grace. "Those who have died and those who are yet to die."

"Well said, sweetie!" Maxwell said, standing in front of his niece while wearing a sinister smile of pride on his face. “But uncle Max would rather you not be in the first group yet!”

The monster howled again and advanced on the Carters. The magician raised his sword, but didn’t have to attack immediately. His duelist puppet attacked the creature first, diverting its attention. At the same time Woodie and Wolfgang made their attacks. The weightlifter received a blow, but the log suit he wore held the impact.

At the same time, on the other side, Willow, Wigfrid, Weeber and Wickerbotton struggled with the second deerclop. They seemed outnumbered, until the second duelist puppet appeared before them, leading the battle.

"Tö me, Valkyries!" Wigfrid exclaimed, advancing side by side with the shadowy figure. “Even Helheimr's shadöws are ön öur side! Attack!"

The actress's energy really inspired the arsonist. She set fire to the tip of the spear and charged violently against the deerclops. Even Mrs. Wickerbotton seemed to have recovered the energies of her youth and was struggling with the tenacity and strength of a true warrior. And Webber screamed excitedly, while three spiders appeared at his side to help him in the fight.

In general, the two groups were in slight balance. The loud noise of the combat didn’t allow to accurately define what was happening, but at least the impact of the creatures' attacks had not reached the camp.

Yet.

Woodie was thrown away with an attack from the right-wing deerclop and landed painfully under a woodpile. Wilson ran to his side to help him, when he realized that the giant was approaching. Its heavy steps were making the alchemy machine and one of the meat effigies tremble.

"No!" Maxwell's voice echoed, and he attacked the creature at the back of his sword.

"Maxwell!" Wilson exclaimed. "You’re too close...!"

Too late. Just as Lucy wasn’t the most suitable weapon to fight enemies that had such a high range, the shadow sword also didn’t allow a fast retreat. The magician was hit by a heavy blow from the deerclops, but luckily the impact was absorbed by the shadow armor. Maxwell was only slightly sore from the experience and his sword flew away.

"One-eyed evil!" the weightlifter advanced on the monster, his eyes bloodshot with fury. Wilson already knew that Wolfgang was beginning to lose his sanity.

"Aaaaahhh!" the second group was also having difficulty. Wigfrid fell, although the redhead just spit the blood out of her mouth and soon started to get up, although limping slightly.

"Attack and then retreat!" Wickerbotton instructed, helping the actress to get up. “Attack and retreat! Repeat the process! Don't risk hitting two in a row, hit one and run away!”

"The giants will nöt beat the Aesir!" was Wigfrid's reply, which wasn't quite sure whether or not she would follow those instructions.

Then Wilson realized he was almost being useless. He had done a few blows at the deerclops on the right, but then stood near the camp, watching the two battles from a distance. The observer scientist in him ended up winning. He shook his head angrily.

"Damn it, I need to fight!" as a gentleman, he decided to help the group that consisted of women and the spider boy. "I’m going!"

Willow had set fire to the deerclops, which howled in pain and moved violently to put out the flames. The fire made it unstable, but also more dangerous. He waved his arms in all directions.

Wilson took advantage of a breach to attack, hitting the monster from the side. At the same time, the librarian and Webber attacked. The monster's fist hit the ground, causing the two to fall on impact, albeit with minor injuries. But it was enough to ignite the scientist's ire.

"RaaaaaAAAARRRRRHHhhhh!" like a madman, he stepped forward and his spear penetrated deep into the creature's leather. So deep that he couldn't get the weapon back. The beast screamed and struggled.

"Wilson, jump!"

Wickerbotton's warning came at the exact moment, the spear was stuck in the monster's body, but the scientist managed to escape a blow that would surely have shattered his log suit. He would survive the attack, perhaps, but he would be mostly useless for days.

"Death tö Jötunheimr!!!"

Wigfrid, Wickerbotton, Willow Webber, the shadow puppet and a surviving spider attacked the monster at the same time. The creature howled, not knowing how to raid back. And another piece of its body started to catch fire. Its feet made the ground shake, but the biggest impact was when the monster fell, defeated. Vibrations reached the outside of the camp, knocking over one of the tents.

"Ah! We did it!" the scientist exclaimed euphorically. “Ah, I cannot believe! We did it! We beat one...!”

"Aaaaaahhhhhh!"

The scream that came from the other side of the camp dragged Wilson back to the harsh reality. Yes, they had defeated ONE deerclops. There was one more left.

Wolfgang was huddled in a corner, wounded and hitting the air. His sanity had already been destroyed. Woodie was lying on the floor. His hand still held Lucy firmly, which indicated that the woodcutter was still alive. Abigail did the best her fragile ghost form allowed her in terms of hurting the creature. The second shadow puppet had already been destroyed and was lying in a corner in the form of a puddle of nightmare fuel. Maxwell was on his feet, his shadow armor in tatters. He was in front of Wendy, trying to protect her. His second shadow puppet crossed the camp and came to his rescue, attacking the deerclop just as Abigail's ghost form was defeated.

"Nooooo!" Wendy screamed, running forward and being held by the magician. "Not again!"

"Maxwell!" Wilson ran beside him. The Englishman was breathless. “Is Woodie okay? You d—aaaaAAACCK! ” his voice was cut off when he felt the magician's long, firm fingers in his throat.

"WHY you didn't stay here, you _bloody imbecile_?!" he shouted, shaking the scientist with a force that the shorter man didn’t think the old man was capable of. “I told you to stay here with us! ”

"Aaackkk... the g-girls ...!" he removed the magician's hand from his neck. “They needed help! There were four… and here there were six of us, counting on Abigail ...! ”

"That's why I ordered them to fight the smaller deerclops!"

The scientist opened his eyes wide. It seems that the magician had a faster battle planning ability than he imagined. And amid his terror, Wilson didn't even bother to measure the monsters' height. But he would have enough time to blame himself for his bad decision, at the moment he was in a panic.

"Ah ... WENDY!!!"

The two men shouted at the same time when they saw the little girl advance against the monster. In her small hands, she held the spear with the strength and integrity of a Joana D’Árc, ready to face death. The second shadow puppet had already been destroyed, leaving no more line of defense between the giant and the girl.

"Wait for me, Abigail..." she murmured, while hitting the deerclops.

Although the creature was already badly injured, that would not be enough to bring it down. In a quick movement, the monster swept the air with its powerful claws, making the fragile body that was in its path, literally, in pieces.

Maxwell's body.

A half-moon of guts and blood splashed everywhere, giving a hot bloodbath in Wendy, Wilson and Willow, who by now had moved closer to the second battlefield to help. Pieces of internal organs spread everywhere, while the magician's lower body fell towards the camp and the upper half was thrown towards a tree.

There was the hesitation of a heartbeat. Two. In the third, Wigfrid, who had a more forged mind for visceral moments like that, advanced on the monster.

“Wake up, yöu fööls! Fight!" she screamed. And her scream woke everyone, even Woodie and Wolfgang, who returned to the battle.

The only one who didn't move was Wilson. He was standing in place, his body soaked with blood. Maxwell's blood. He was looking towards the upper half of the magician's body, fallen a few meters away.

With unsteady steps, he walked towards the Englishman. The sounds of the battle seemed to be distant, as if they were happening elsewhere. In another world. Very, very far from the real horror he was experiencing at that moment.

"..." he opened his mouth to say something while kneeling before that lifeless piece of meat. He didn't know what to do. He was... Wilson was...

It was then that something red and shiny began to pulse under the red-dyed pinstripe coat. It was the Life Giving Amulet. Its magic had been activated and, at that moment, it was...

... was _rebuilding_ the magician's lower body. A sight not pleasant to see, but spectacular nonetheless. Bones started to grow, muscle fibers started to intertwine. A new intestine began to form, as if it were a snake entwining itself in the middle of the newly reconstructed abdomen. The muscles were restored, a layer of fat (why, so the magician had some fat on his body) covered the fibers and the skin started to be reconstructed.

After such an effort, the Life Giving Amulet exploded into a thousand pieces. At the very moment the magician opened his eyes, choking on air and instinctively covering his naked lower body.

"YAAAAHHHHH!!!" shouts of joy and celebration, and Wigfrid's voice was the most prominent, could be heard not far from there. The second deerclops had been defeated.

"We..." Wilson looked back for a moment, but then he returned his eyes to the magician. “... we won, Maxy! We won!"

"... t-told ya ..." the man muttered, with a smile that has the satisfaction of being right in that matter again. It was the only thing he said before he passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

Since the nightmare throne, Maxwell has not felt so bad.

His body was sore everywhere, both inside and out. His head throbbed with constant migraines. His skin burned, especially from his navel down, even though there was no visible wound on it. The magician had already gone through the unpleasant experience of death, returning not feeling completely well. But this time the impression he had was that more than half of his health had been stolen from him at once.

Maxwell knew that one day he would be too weak even to take care of himself. But he hoped this sad condition would only hit him when he had all his gray hair (or no hair at all, which was possible judging by his recessive hairline), not so soon. Yes, if time went by at Constant in the same way as on Earth he would probably be pushing his sixties, but he didn't believe he would be that weak at that age. He was barely able to stand and take a few steps without the help of anyone.

To make matters worse, it didn't seem like his health was getting better over time, especially since it was difficult for him to eat. Anything solid he tried to eat made his stomach sick. Since he was resurrected three days ago, he was living on liquids. Worse. Liquids being served to him by Wilson, who was acting like he was an irritating mix of a nurse and a nanny.

"You need to eat more." the scientist insisted, holding the spoon in front of the magician's face.

"Ugh, I'm full."

"No, you’re not!" Wilson scolded, frowning. "You barely ate three spoonfuls."

“I already ate in the afternoon! Wickerbotton insisted that I swallow that damn berry jam... ”

"... because you haven't even finished the soup that I offered you at lunch." the younger man grunted angrily. He rested the dish on his thighs. “Seriously, Maxwell! Will I have to do with you like in my nightmare? Open your epigastrium and introduce food directly in your stomach?”

"It would certainly be less painful than hearing your mother hen whining five times a day!"

The two men measured their gaze for a few moments, but Maxwell was so tired and sore that he just didn't stay in the battle of wits for long. He closed his eyes and turned his face away, looking toward his negative belly. That part of the body hurt most, whether he was well fed or not.

"I am definitely not suitable to be a father." the scientist said, with a sigh.

"Excuse me?!"

"You heard me." Wilson's voice was serious. “If I can't even make a supposedly rational and intelligent adult understand that he needs nutrients to keep his body alive, what can I say to convince a spoiled child? Although Wendy and Webber behave better than you!”

"Your luck is that I am too weak to give you enough slaps to return senses into that hairy, bearded head of yours!"

“Really? Perhaps if you ate more, you would have enough strength to do this!” the scientist challenged him.

"What is the reason that I eat more than I can take if I'm going to throw up afterwards?!" this had happened before, when Wigfrid insisted that the tall man eat at least one meatball the day before.

"You don't have to eat everything at once, you can eat slowly, nobody is in a hurry." the scientist raised the spoon again. “But at least try to finish a bowl, will you? I can stay here with you all night, if need be.”

"Is this supposed to encourage me?"

"I'm serious, Maxwell!"

"Ugh!" the damn scientist was as stubborn as a mule. The magician was out of options. However, he was willing to keep a minimum of his already fragmented dignity. "Give me the bowl." he held his thin hands out to Wilson. "I am not a baby, I can eat by myself!"

"Hm." luckily for the scientist, Wilson didn't come up with a funny answer. Otherwise, the soup and bowl would end up on his head. “I am already preparing that serum that restores health after a person is revived. It took a while for me to find more bee stingers, but tomorrow morning it will be ready.”

"What a joy." the magician took a spoonful of soup, struggling to swallow. The liquid descended like lead in his sore throat. "But I'm afraid that, in my case, it will need to be something stronger than that."

"I also think that. The damage the deerclops did to your body was more than the magic of the Life Amulet can fix. They don't work miracles ... oh no, scratch that. ” Wilson shook his head. “Life Amulets certainly _work_ miracles, but not that powerful. It seems that, when rebuilding half of your body, it was still missing to give it back some life.”

"What would _not_ have happened if a certain idiot hadn't left the group in the middle of the battle!" the Englishman returned, swallowing another spoonful.

“Stars! I must have asked you more than seven hundred and fifty-two apologies by now!” the scientist raised his hands in the air. “And at the moment, I'm doing everything I can to redeem myself! More than half of everything I have done in the past three days has been to relieve your pain and discomfort! And yet you don't look satisfied!”

“I think I would be more satisfied if you left me alone for an entire day! I'm sick of seeing your face here in my tent every time I open my eyes!”

"Well, it won't happen, buddy!" Wilson put his hands on his hips in defiance. "I will continue to keep an eye on you until you recover, whether you like it or not!"

"Staying here will not improve my health, it may even take me longer to recover!"

“Save this illogical statement of yours for a time when you are not literally dying! If you want to get rid of my face as soon as possible, then collaborate with me! Eat better, don't leave the tent without calling for help and stop creating a problem all the time! These discussions consume not only your health, but mine!”

"I feel sorry for your future wife." Maxwell said, swallowing the last spoonful. Curiously, in the middle of his irritation, he finally ended up cleaning the bowl without realizing it. “Imagine the poor creature hitting her toe on a corner and having to put up with you running after it like a lost puppy, offering soups and balms of dubious quality at all times! If you are already so irritatingly protective of me, someone you hate, imagine how you will behave in the company of someone you love?”

Maxwell put the bowl aside. He waited a few moments to hear Wilson's rude reply and was surprised when it didn't come. And his surprise increased even more when he observed the expression on the scientist's face. It was a mixture of disbelief with anger and... hurt, perhaps?

"Higgsbury?" Maxwell murmured, seeing that the scientist simply did not respond.

"Who told you that I hate you, Maxwell?" the voice came out so calm and measured that the magician felt a strange shiver go up his spine.

"Isn’t obvious?" the magician said, his voice equally calm. “I brought you here, along with all these other people. We are all stuck in Constant, maybe forever. Furthermore, we are always at odds at all times. Two out of three things I do and say bother you, and the feeling is mutual. We have different geniuses, different ideas, different tastes. It's natural that we don't like each other.”

There was another pause. Wilson didn't change his expression, except for a slight flush that colored his face, hidden by his thick dark brown beard.

" _Who_ told you that I hate you, Maxwell?!" he repeated the question, this time with a slight desperation in his voice.

The magician swallowed. For a moment, he felt cornered like a rabbit trapped in a top hat with a false bottom. His thick lips trembled when he answered:

"I... uh... nobody told me that. But, judging by your attitudes... ”

"MY attitudes?!" the scientist raised his voice, leaning so much towards the Englishman that he had to step back a few inches, supporting his arms behind his body. "I'm here, by your side, taking care of your injuries, giving you food in your mouth, ensuring that you stay dry and warm all winter... HOW any of these attitudes signal to you that I hate you?!"

Maxwell had no answer for that. Or rather, he had: but it was an answer that would shatter what was left of his pride for good. He swallowed it with such difficulty that he felt his stomach churn.

"Stop worrying about me so much, Higgsbury." he said at last. “Take care of yourself a little, for a change. I can take care of myself.”

Without saying anything else, Wilson stood up. He opened the tent flap and left. And it was only then that Maxwell felt that he could breathe again. But it was heavy breathing, carried by a feeling he was already quite used to carrying: guilt.

But there was more than guilt. Something he was even afraid to name.

…………………………………….

Nobody was surprised when Wilson came out of Maxwell's tent fuming. It was not the first time in those last days. Heck, it wasn't the first time since the group of survivors had started camping together, that scene was common. The fights that the magician and the scientist had were endless, so they needed to be physically separated for a few hours until they spoke with each other again. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But this time there was something that, thankfully, none of them noticed. And that was certainly very unusual. Wilson was crying.

The cold air helped to disguise the red tip of his nose and the cap that protected his ears further hid his face. But Wilson was crying. He was in tears. The salty drops wet his beard, freezing moments later. He ran away from the camp, carrying a torch with him. He shouldn't be wasting resources, but if the scientist didn't move away from that place, giving him a few minutes to recover, he would explode.

When he was well away from the camp, Wilson built a small fire. He did not intend to sleep there, but he intended to return only after a few hours or two. Or even stop crying, which could take even longer.

 _I can't cope with this anymore!_ he thought, bringing cold hands to his face. _This cannot be genuine affection! Cannot! This is a sick joke made by Them! It can only be this!_

Wilson was never a social butterfly and all of his intimate relationships could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Not that he missed it. In fact, he was not living like a hermit in the middle of the forest for nothing. He always believed that his true passion was science.

But that was because he had never been in love with a person before.

However, could he really say that what he felt for Maxwell was a genuine feeling? The scientist already dispensed a good part of his thoughts on these questions, especially after waking up from wet dreams involving the magician - which were becoming more and more frequent. Yes, violent dreams still occurred, but they were already falling below 50%. Not to mention that many of them, although they started out painful, had the habit of ending in more pleasant ways.

Wilson was a rational man in the first place. Could this be just a simple physical attraction that was not related to feelings or manipulation by Them? Unlikely, especially when the object of his desire was Maxwell, which, even in a long shot, could not be considered 'attractive' in the current aesthetic standards. Well, but not everyone cares about it, that was the truth. Much less Wilson.

The (few) ladies he courted in his life were not known for their beauty, but for their intelligence. Wilson met few of them, all within the university. Unfortunately, science was a predominantly male field, requiring a woman to make at least three times the effort to overcome the differences in privileges that men had to assume the same position. And yet, be judged for their supposed lack of skill just because they were women. Baseless accusations, as Higgsbury has never met a female scientist who was less talented than most men. On the contrary: all those he met were above average. And this fact allowed him to create a strong intellectual bond with them. Which, on a few occasions, has evolved into a more romantic involvement.

So, perhaps, Wilson was not the type who was passionate about a specific genre, or a specific appearance. He was passionate about people's minds. Intelligence attracted him, that was true. But in this case, why wasn't he attracted to other brilliant male scientists he met in his university days? And he met many.

Ah, but there was another detail that was characteristic of the female scientists he met: courage. Staying in a room full of men, ignoring judgmental looks, jokes and sometimes even the constant physical threat from envious colleagues was something that women scientists had to face every day. They were extremely brave human beings. They had an iron determination just to be able to stay where they were.

Intelligence, courage and determination. Well, these were things that any unfortunate person that fell on Constant needed to have. And sometimes it was not even necessary to have all three together, as luck could replace one of these characteristics in some cases. As in Wolfgang, he lacked courage. Or Woodie, who lacked determination - although his strange axe, Lucy, seemed to whisper words of encouragement when his will failed. Or Webber, who... Wilson hesitated to say that the spider boy lacked ‘intelligence’, but that he seemed to have less knowledge than the others (even because he was a child) that he had.

Since Higgsbury set foot on Constant, the only mind that seemed sharp enough to keep up with his was Maxwell's. Yes, the magician was not very knowledgeable about science, but his knowledge of magic and other related subjects was quite high. And he had courage, it was necessary to admit. Maintaining that kind of arrogant and sometimes despicable attitude in the company of people who could easily overcome you in a physical confrontation was something that only a brave (or crazy) person would do. And he, of course, also had the determination to survive and allow everyone in the group to survive. The magician did not admit it, but it was clear that he cared about others. Especially with Wendy, the niece that (oh, lord, Wilson hadn't gotten over that yet!) he brought to Constant.

It seemed to make sense: Maxwell was a person someone could easily fall in love with. Someone with whom it seemed to make sense for Wilson to fall in love. Although his ego was the size of the world, he still left loopholes to be affable and even funny when he allowed himself to let his guard down from time to time.

However...

However, he knew how to be cruel when he wanted to. He seemed to know exactly what to say, with surgical precision, to hurt Wilson. The scientist did not know what to do. Maybe he is the one who was doing something wrong? He has never been in a lasting relationship before. Heck, he never even dreamed of being in a relationship before. He knew couples could fight, but was it always like that? With this type of frequency? The memories he had of his childhood home were his parents, although not very affectionate, were rational and restrained. They rarely fought in front of their only child, and when they did, they were the kind of thing that was more about maintaining the home than anything else.

Oh, but what was Wilson thinking? Since when could a couple's fight parameters be used to measure the disagreement between him and Maxwell? The two were certainly NOT a couple. The two didn’t like each other. Well, at least the magician shouldn't like Higgsbury. How can someone who loves someone have the nerve to say that kind of thing, even more after the other tries so hard to please?

And most torturous of all: why didn't Wilson give up once being so considerate to Maxwell and leave the magician to rot, injured and sick, in some corner? Let's face it, the old man never asked Wilson for anything. Never. And he himself was willing to live a life isolated from the whole camp, if need be. He seemed to have already accepted that everyone in the camp hated him and he was ok with that.

No... it doesn't make sense. Why did he still think that everyone hated him after Wilson showed so much attention to him? This was what most tortured the scientist. What was he doing wrong to, until that moment, still give Maxwell the impression that he was not well accepted there?

When Maxwell was literally shattered in the fight against the deerclops, and resurrected by the Life Amulet, there was not a single person in the camp who was not concerned about him. When the adrenaline of the fight passed, everyone went to the magician. And they all showed a patience and a commiseration that they rarely showed to anyone else there.

Yes, Maxwell was still someone that everyone there was afraid of interacting and forming a bond of friendship, but if there was still doubt that the magician had the intelligence, the courage and the determination to make everyone survive and escape from Constant, these doubts died in that instant.

What was Wilson doing wrong? He couldn't say. For the life on him, he couldn't say. The short man had enough knowledge to decipher Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, but he would never be able to understand why Maxwell continued to act in that cruel way towards him. Especially with him. And the scientist also had no idea that, even after so many fights and disappointments, the feeling of fondness he felt for the magician was still so intense. It's painful.

"Wilson?"

He froze when he heard his name being whispered. Wilson didn’t move, hoping that whoever called him would leave. Especially if it was _that_ person.

"Wilson." the voice insisted. A new source of light illuminated his back. "My dear, you will catch the flu if you continue to sit in the snow like this."

Wickerbotton. The woman was standing beside him. The scientist grabbed his own legs on him, hiding his head.

"I am fine." he said, sighing.

"It seems that Maxwell is not the only one who offends my intelligence." the woman shook her head heavily. “You are obviously not well. Neither does Maxwell.”

"That stubborn old man will never be well until he eats better and lets others take care of him!"

"I don't mean physical health." the librarian said, smiling. “I didn't insist on asking him about what happened because, yes. He needs rest. So can I ask you the reason for this latest fight?”

"The same! He's a stubborn and infuriating old man!”

"I don’t doubt that the reasons were these, but it’s far from being 'the same as always'." she knelt in the snow beside the scientist. "Are you crying."

Wilson winced. Was that so clear in his face? The librarian continued to speak:

“Before you start filling your head with questions, I must say that hiding your face is not enough to deceive me. I have enough life experience to read a person's body language to say that he is in distress.”

"Ugh!" Wilson sunk his face further between his knees. “We are stuck in this damn place, abandoned by God, in the company of the very same guy who brought us here! And we are obliged to take care of him in order to have a chance to escape... and he is a great ungrateful bastard! It’s really a reason to be very distressed!”

"Ah, this part Maxwell made a point of telling me: he never made you look after him, especially in the excessive way you are doing."

"He has no choice!" Wilson shoot, more sharply than he intended. “If he is not taken care of, he will die! For good, this time! I have every right to look after him as much as I can, on behalf of everyone that depends on his knowledge to get out of here!”

"If that was the only reason, I don't think you were so emotionally invested in it." the woman smiled tenderly. "If it were just this practical and rational reason, I don't doubt that you could overlook the cheap provocations and harsh words that Maxwell always uses in these situations to defend himself."

“Defend himself? He has nothing to defend himself for! I have said thousands of times that nobody in the camp hates him!”

"Perhaps that’s the problem."

Wilson turned to face the librarian head-on, as if he were talking to a genius or a madwoman. His eyes, still red, were wide.

"I fail to understand how it can be a problem for a person to know that they are liked by the group!”

"For someone who carries a burden of guilt as great as his, it must be difficult."

The gears started to spin inside Wilson's head, although he didn't know exactly where this processing was taking him. Something clicked inside, but it was still left out.

"I give up trying to understand this man." the scientist said, sighing. “I don't understand how someone who brought their own niece to this hell still puts himself in front of her to save her, at the cost of his own life. I don't understand how someone who receives attention and care can still think they are hated. I don't understand how can exist so much ingratitude and mistrust after so many extensive demonstrations of comradeship between me and Maxwell. I really don’t understand."

"And he, for sure, shouldn't understand why you insist on being so kind to him even after everything he's done."

"I know why." Wilson chuckled. "Because I'm a soft-hearted idiot."

“You’re not an idiot, dear. And although you do have a soft heart, if that were the only reason you wouldn’t be so emotionally invested in this situation.”

"Oh, and what would be the reason?"

"You love him."

The sentence was affirmative and direct, with no room for other interpretations. The gears running inside Wilson's mind went into a panic, but a panic of enlightenment rather than confusion. For a moment, the scientist felt like Archimedes of Siracusa shouting 'Eureka!'. But instead of speaking the famous Greek phrase, he said:

"No!" he visibly shuddered from head to toe. "Of course not!"

"You don't have to be ashamed or afraid, Wilson." the librarian put her hand on his shoulder and the scientist's fight or flee mechanism was activated, but he struggled to stay put. “There is no one here who will question the affection between two men. In fact, in my long life experience, I would say that there is nothing wrong between two adults loving each other, as long as they both agree in that. But sometimes, due to the rigid upbringing they may have had, a little push can help prevent further suffering.”

"Mrs. Wickerbotton." the scientist tried to speak without shaking his voice. Failed. “There is absolutely no chance that any human being will love Maxwell, whether that human being is a man, a woman, or whatever! He is a cruel, vile and ungrateful man! A manipulator and a hijacker! And, on top of that, I am absolutely sure that he is incapable of loving anyone!”

"And why do you think he threw himself in front of the deerclops and the spiders to save Wendy?"

“I can understand that the blood is thicker than the water, but I still don't think he loves Wendy! He loves no one but himself!”

“If that were true, he would continue to manipulate everyone in the camp to be constantly served and cared for. He wouldn’t adopt the attitude of one who is always ready to be kicked out, or killed by the survivors at any minute. I already told you, Wilson: Maxwell carries a huge guilt and he doesn't know how to deal with it. Above all, he doesn't think he deserves care and affection. And every time you insist on showing him your love... ”

"I don't love Maxwell!" the scientist exclaimed indignantly.

"... and every time you insist on showing him your love..." the librarian repeated, unperturbed. “... he sinks further into the guilt spiral. And it hurts. Much. And he would do anything to stop this pain. Even drive away the person he loves most in this place.”

"What?!" Wilson got to his feet. "Of all the absurd things you have said, Mrs. Wickerbotton, this has been as far from reality as possible!"

The woman took a long breath, like a teacher trying to explain to a dumb student the simplest thing in the world for the fifth time. Wilson didn't like that. Still, being a gentleman, he still offered his hand to help her up.

"So, I believe that I have nothing left but to end this conversation and never speak again about sentimental issues." she adjusted her glasses. “Let's stick to practical questions, shall we? It's cold, you're going to get the flu if you stay here, and Maxwell certainly needs you to take care of him.”

"Hm... yes, it's true. Let’s go."

The two returned to the camp, being received by the light of the fire pit. Wigfrid was on guard and smiled as he saw his two companions approach. Wilson sat on the log for a few minutes and looked to his right. In the nearest trees, there were still signs of fighting the two deerclops. One of the trees still had Maxwell's blood stains on it.

Again, that excruciating pain in his chest. The memory of seeing the magician being crushed in front of him was too terrible. Too painful. He would do anything to prevent Maxwell from getting hurt again. He would even be able to endure more pain from his ingratitude than to lose him for good.

The actress yawned, announcing that it was time for her to go to sleep. Wickerbotton picked up her book and started reading it, beginning her watch shift.

"Aren't you going to enter Maxwell's tent?" the librarian asked. “Again: let's stick to practical issues. Someone needs to keep an eye on him.”

"I..." he hesitated. "I don't know if he wants me there."

"Wilson..."

"Uhh..." he wiggled his fingers nervously. “Can you ask him that? Ask him if he will let me in, please. I don't want to have another argument today.”

"Wilson."

"Please!"

Wickerbotton shook her head. She got up and went towards the magician's tent. She stayed inside for longer than it would take to ask such a simple question. Much more. Maybe twenty minutes or more.

Finally, the woman came out of the tent with a conspiratorial smile on her lips and that look of a teacher who is content to teach a lesson, even a bitter one, to a beloved pupil.

"He said you can come in."

The scientist couldn't help but smile. But as soon as he lifted the tent flap, he returned to his sullen expression. There was no need to pretend, as the magician was lying on his back to the entrance to the tent. Without saying a word, Wilson lay down on the straw mattress. Maxwell didn't need to sleep, but Wilson did. And despite the burst of emotion that overtook him a few hours ago he was happy to be close to the Englishman. Even though there was still a good distance of a foot between their bodies.

"Thanks for letting me in." Wilson murmured, before he could stop himself.

"If there is one thing that is more irritating to hear than your whining is Wickerbotton’s lecture." the magician grunted, covering himself with the beefalo blanket. “I already had a mother. I don't need another one. Much less _two_ : both of you!”

Wilson chuckled, feeling all the tension from hours ago disappear as soon as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Wilson had no idea what Wickebotton said to Maxwell, but whatever it was, it worked wonderfully.

Since that day the magician was much more receptive to the care the scientist gave him. He ate most meals, rested properly, even agreed to receive the new revitalizing serum without complaining... too much. Gradually, he was returning to what he was before.

"Frail man doesn't look so frail anymore." Wolfgang said casually, on one of the walks the magician took around the camp to stretch his legs.

"And it seems that the strong man is not so strong anymore." he commented, looking at the Russian sitting in front of the fire pit. His muscles looked less impressive than on other days.

"Little food yesterday and today." the man shrugged. "Wolfgang wanted a steak."

"Do you want me to provide a shadow spider for you to kill and eat now, pal?" Maxwell laughed, opening the Codex Umbra.

"Ah, no, no, no!" the man shivered from head to toe and walked away quickly.

"Scaring Wolf again?" Willow commented, lighting her lighter and extinguishing it all the time. She was sitting by the fire pit. "Seriously, you're much more tolerable when you're in bed, old man."

"You can be sure that the greatest of my efforts in frightening the others pales in the face of the fires you cause, Ms. Willow." he sneers. "They are scary, even more so when they destroy months and months of our hard work."

“Ah, you’re exaggerating! And speaking of fires, you promised me you were going to teach me how to spit fire, like you did on that show for the kids.”

"Oh, if you learn that, you will be the most undoubtedly scary creature in all of Constant!" he brought his hand to his chest dramatically. "And I don't like competition."

The girl gave a cross answer, but Wilson was no longer paying attention. He was getting ready to fetch firewood and just watched Maxwell out of the corner interacting with the other members of the group. Not even being debilitated did he lose his arrogance and his air of superiority, but the scientist soon realized that he liked that. He missed seeing the Englishman strutting around the camp as if he owned the place.

Wilson moved about a mile from the base, where there were the most robust evergreens. It was quality wood. As he cut down the trees he started to wonder if it was time for the group to build real houses instead of sleeping in tents. Although the idea of sleeping under a solid roof was pleasant, at the same time it gave him a twinge of anguish in the chest, because building a house meant... permanence.

Despite the magician's promise that there was a chance (a _single_ chance) for them to return to Earth, the scientist's hopes dwindled by the day. And as incredible as it sounds, he felt resigned to it. Living in the middle of the forest wasn’t much different than what he had done since he gave up presenting his inventions at the university, years ago. And he had to admit that, although he was a reserved person, he enjoyed the company of others.

Of course, living in Constant wasn’t a bed of roses, as everyone had to worry about the death that lurked around every corner. But if they came together to build a solid foundation, perhaps a wall, a more robust farm and sturdy houses, perhaps they could have their own small, comfortable and safe civilization. They would always have to be together, but everyone there already acted as if they were from the same family, right?

Wilson only felt pity for the children, who wouldn’t have had a chance to enjoy anything in life and, like Peter Pan, would remain children forever. Well, he could think of worse fates, especially when he remembered that Abigail died on Earth, not on the Constant.

 _We can still go back._ he concentrated on that idea while putting the wood in the backpack. _We can still go back, but in the meantime it wouldn't be bad to have a safe home. Well, I'm going to talk to them to see what they think of the idea._

The architect in Wilson started to think about the house design. It would have to be quite large to protect them all. Woodie would like to have a very large window in his room so he can watch the moon at night. Wolfgang and Wigfrid were apparently starting a little romance, so maybe they would like to have a room to themselves. Wickerbotton would probably like a lot of bookshelves on her. The children could share a room together. Willow would need walls lined with scales to not set fire to everything. And he and Maxwell... well, they had been sharing the same tent for days. Perhaps they could, to save construction work and materials, share the same room. Maybe even the same bed...

The scientist shook his head, trying to stop that embarrassing trail of thought. Backpacking full, he started to return to the camp. There was still not enough wood and he would have to return to that area later. However, before arriving at the camp, he realized that he had company.

Maxwell. The magician was alone in an area full of tree stumps. He had his back to the scientist, unaware of his presence. _How careless!_ He had the Codex Umbra in his hand and opened it. Wilson's blood ran cold and several ideas involving the word 'betrayal' started to cross his mind.

However, he soon calmed down when a Maxwell shadow appeared. With a shovel in its hands, the puppet started to work. As he got closer, Wilson denounced his presence, which made the magician jump a little, but he soon calmed down when he realized it was the scientist.

"What is this?" Wilson asked, raising an accusatory eyebrow.

"A digger." the magician replied, closing the book. “There are many stumps here in the area to be removed. I would summon a duelist as well, to help protect the camp, but I would need more nightmare fuel. ”

“That is not what I asked. I was wondering why you are so far from the camp alone. ”

"Please, I'm really not in the mood for another discussion." the tall man rolled his eyes. "I'm already fine. Not on my top, it's true, but I can still walk, and even run, without the help of a cane or something. In addition, I needed to breathe some fresh air away from the leachate that Woodie is cooking. ”

"Hm, right." the scientist didn't really want to start an argument. And really a little exercise would be good for the magician. “Even so, don't go out alone. Call me if you want to do something away from the base, like picking evil flowers or stuff.”

“I wouldn't dare to call you to pick evil flowers. Otherwise, your mother hen instinct would make you harvest them in my place and you would go crazy. ”

"Haha, more crazy than you already make me?" Wilson smiled warmly. “Well, let's go back. I need to put this firewood in the camp. Then I can accompany you for a walk. ”

The magician sighed, knowing he wouldn't escape surveillance so easily. The two returned to the camp and Wilson left the materials near the fire. The two entered the tent.

"Red marks are no longer showing on your body, are they?" he asked, reaching for the chest with blue mushrooms. They were good for relieving pain, although they decreased sanity. But for Maxwell, their side effect was almost negligible.

"Fortunately no. The redness disappeared after I started to exercise more. I don’t think I’ll have bed sores. ”

"Still, let me have a look."

Without hesitation, Maxwell stripped his torso and removed his pants. The two were so used to this routine that there was practically no difference between the magician being dressed or naked in front of the scientist. Even Wilson, when he needed to change his dirty day's clothes for sleepwear, he had no reservations. The two acted almost like brothers who showered together or something. However, although he already knew the body of the Englishman well, something caught the scientist's attention.

"You gained weight." Wilson said, with satisfaction in his voice.

"Yes, it's a little difficult not to gain weight when you're served honey ham every day by your particular nurse and nanny." the older man chuckled.

“This is great, you no longer seem to be malnourished. Although you are still very thin. ” he ran his fingers beside the tall man's chest. “Your ribs are almost disappearing under the muscles. Good!"

The scientist's hand stroked the magician's body for longer than would be necessary for a medical inspection. The skin was pale but healthy, without the worrying redness of the previous week. The point where his body had been split in two had no scar, which was to be expected. Even so, the sight and sound of the flesh being torn and the vertebral column being broken still terrified the scientist. And this memory added even more realism to the nightmares that Wilson still had and that involved high degrees of violence between him and his former kidnapper.

"Higgsbury?"

The scientist cannot help noticing the lines of stretch marks that appeared on the magician's back and thighs, indicating that he must have been that type of teenager who grows too fast in a short time. Well, it is no wonder for a man six and half feet tall. It made Wilson wonder, for a moment, what kind of young man Maxwell must have been. Was he the bohemian type, who liked the temptations of the night to go hunting? Or was he the more homely type, who preferred to stay at home and let his parents prepare him for any arranged marriage instead of bothering to go around looking for girls? Maxwell liked women, right? The way he used to talk affectionately about Charlie indicated that the two have a relationship while she was his assistant. They had sex? Did she see him naked so many times when Wilson saw him...?

"Ah... Higgsbury!"

"Uh?!" Wilson's eyes widened, startled. It was only at that time that he realized that his hands were going down to a place on the magician's body that, at first, didn’t need medical inspection. The scientist withdrew his hand quickly, flushed. “Sorry, I… I was thinking about… something else! Excuse me!"

The magician also blushed. His chest rose and fell with a heavy breath and Wilson couldn't help but notice that his nipples were hard. With an indignant face, Maxwell covered his body with his shirt, suddenly regaining his modesty.

"Have you finished your inspection yet?" he asked, in a deep, angry voice.

"Yes of course! Excuse me." the scientist said, turning his face away. "I... I'm going to chop wood again."

"Yes, do it."

The scientist left the tent and returned to the place where he was previously cutting trees. A pang of anguish hurt his chest. _Shame on me!_ he thought, still flushed from what he had done. Not only for that, but the way Maxwell acted indicated that the magician... well, there were mixed signals at that moment. But, with absolute certainty, he was not very receptive to anything beyond a quick check-up.

Wilson had no idea how he was going to get back to that tent that night. He hit the tree trunk with his head instead of the axe, furious with himself. He, who was always a reserved person even for hugging friends and family, didn’t seem to have much control over his actions when he was with Maxwell.

An irrational fear that he had ruined everything, all the friendship built up to that moment, started to eat away at him. What if the magician thought that all that care was just an excuse for Wilson to take advantage of him? _Oh, God... he wouldn't think of this nonsense, would he?_ That was not true, the scientist was always concerned with Maxwell's well-being without ever having any ulterior motives. Even if the Englishman refused him as a partner, and even as a friend, in the most categorical way possible, he would still care for him and take care of him, if allowed.

 _Fool, moron, STUPID!_ there was nothing in the world that Wilson Percival Higgsbury found more unforgivable than his own stupidity. Anything. He threw the axe away and started walking through the trees, punching the logs. _I'm the biggest idiot in the Constant!_

Cold air passed over his face, making the hairs on his beard stand on end. Winter was ending and soon there would be no need for everyone to share tents to keep warm. This would be a good excuse to justify the scientist's absence from Maxwell's tent. But still, it wouldn’t resolve the tension between them. Their relationship, even though cordial, was over.

 _Maybe… I'm thinking too much._ Wilson took a long breath. _Maybe... well, maybe when I get back to camp at night, Maxwell even forgot how stupid I was. Or... or will he keep this resentment? Ugh, it's hard to predict that man's actions!_

And it was precisely because he was so lost in thoughts of remorse; the scientist didn’t notice that he was heading towards danger. At the edge of the forest were several hives. Bees did not tend to be fierce with those they approached, but drones were another matter. The furious hum of the insects caught Wilson's eye.

“What? Oh, shit!"

He ran. Usually drones were easy to outrun, but he had forgotten his axe and some wood piles. They could not afford to waste material in the winter. The scientist turned around, hoping to trick the insects, and ran to get his items. It took longer than he anticipated.

The buzz was loud and he closed his eyes, preparing to receive the painful sting. But it never happened. When he opened his eyes again, he realized that Maxwell's digger puppet had come between him and the threat.

The shadow received several stings, until it finally disappeared. This gave Wilson time to pick up his things and run away. As he walked, Maxwell's voice came to his head when he remembered a conversation they had last season, about the strange behavior of shadow puppets.

 _"They behave like I would behave ..."_ was what the magician explained at the time. He never gave orders to the puppets, they always knew very well what needed to be done, and they worked hard. And yet, they all still carried some of their creator's pride and haughtiness. _“... if I were an entity of pure shadow with no need or obligation to interact with other people in order to survive. Thus, they ignore you. ”_

No, puppets didn’t ignore Wilson. That the scientist was sure of. They could be quite absorbed in their work, based on the tools they received at the time of creation, but they didn’t completely ignore everyone around them. Much less Wilson. In fact, the scientist had the feeling that sometimes the shadows even stared at him for a long time with his absent eyes.

And now, without a shadow of a doubt (pun intended), unlike that dúbios occasion before, near the swamps, the puppet certainly saved Wilson. It wasn't a stumble, it wasn't a coincidence, there was no tree stump nearby that would even justify the fact that the digger was there.

The shadow protected Wilson. With its life.

Was the real Maxwell willing to do the same thing?


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, guys! Look!” Woodie called everyone. "The portal is shining!"

A new survivor had found their way to the base camp, a new face. Maxwell frowned, not knowing what to expect. It was true that he had kidnapped more people than the eight who met him, but there was also a handful of people that ended up in Constant by accident. And others that didn't survive long.

One of those unlucky sods was that Canadian boy, the Scout. Too brave for his own good, he met his final death after being stung by dozens of bees. He was allergic.

Another that Maxwell witnessed the final death was the mimic. Ah, that one he almost felt elated to see him die. The magician hated mimes, and his origin as an Englishman of the Victorian Era made him have a slight natural loathing to the French.

The glow intensified and disappeared, leaving the silhouette of a man in place... no, a woman in men's clothes.

As soon as she approached, as confused as anyone who had ever gone through that portal, it was possible to see her face. She was a woman in her mid thirties, although it was possible to see on her tired and suffering face that she had dark circles and expression marks that almost put her in her forties. Something about her made Maxwell feel anxious, as if he had seen her somewhere before.

"Who are you?!" she exclaimed, suspicious. She had a screwdriver in her hands and held it up menacingly. "What crazy world is this that I was thrown into now?"

"Easy, we are friends!" Wilson said, approaching with a smile and hands up, to demonstrate that there was no danger. “My name is Wilson Higgsbury. Unfortunately, just like you, we also ended up in this trap. But we are all working together to get out of it, and you’re most welcome!”

"Working together...?" the woman turned her head and looked at the other survivors.

Wolfgang, Wickerbotton, Willow and Woddie approached it warmly. Wigfrid greeted her in a theatrical and exaggerated way that she always did. Wendy stood in a corner, just watching from a distance. Webber tried to get closer, but as soon as the woman saw him she jumped aside, like a frightened cat, and he just backed away.

Maxwell was the last. He approached cautiously, trying to remember where he had seen that woman. And he was the first to ask the obvious question:

"What's your name?"

"Winona." she replied, looking intently at the magician. It seemed that she, too, had already seen him somewhere. “Winona Adams. And you?"

The name made Maxwell's stomach turn to stone. _Adams?! Charlie's last name?! No... it can't be...!_

"Hey!" the woman stepped forward, frowning. "Wait a minute, you are... you... are _Maxy_?!"

"What?" Wilson turned, finding the nickname curious. "Do you two already know each oth—?"

Before the scientist could finish the sentence, Winona advanced on Maxwell. Although she was a head shorter than the Englishman, she was certainly twice as strong as he. She shook him by the collar.

"You! You bastard! Where's Charlie?! What did you do with my sister?!”

The magician could try to get rid of those hands (although he probably wasn't successful), but he didn't even try. He let himself be shaken like a rag doll, still looking with an expression of dumb shock at Charlie's older sister. And that only seemed to irritate the handywoman even more.

"Hey, hey!" Wilson ran to them, holding the woman's fists. "Wait! Miss, release him!”

"This bastards kidnapped my sister!"

“I don't know who your sister is, but you can be sure that she wasn't the only one! All of us here have been kidnapped by him!”

"What?!" Winona released the magician with disgust on her face. "And how come you still haven't hung him on a rope?!"

"Believe me, this idea crossed our mind." Willow admitted, sighing. “As well as other options involving immolation. But we have come to the conclusion that it is better to work together for everyone to get out of here.”

"Whaaaaat?! Working together with a dirty kidnapper? What is it?! A crazy people camp?!”

"Miss Adams, is that your name?" Wickerbotton took a step forward, adjusting her glasses. “You are new here and, although I admit that an initial irritation towards Maxwell is reasonable, I advise you to calm down. We all went through very difficult times because of him, but Mr. Carter is also doing everything to try to remedy the situation. For some, this may not be enough to forgive him, but this may be for later. At the moment, we all have to collaborate with each other.”

"Ugh... I don't believe it!" the woman rubbed her face with her hands. "After so long... so long...!"

"Miss, who is your sister?" Webber asked, approaching. Winona, this time, was not startled by the boy. She was too exhausted. “Is it by any chance Mrs. Wigfrid? You two seem to be very strong.”

"Öh, nö, I dön't have any sisters öf mine." the opera singer said, with a smile that clearly showed her teeth gap. "But I wöuld certainly accept her in my sisterhööd, as she seems tö be a great warriör!"

"This is definitely a crazy camp..." Winona murmured. She gave Maxwell a poisonous look and then turned towards Wickerbotton. “Okay, granny. I will play by the rules here. Do you need any work to be done? Build something? I'm good at it."

"Excellent, Miss Adams." the librarian clasped her hands in appreciation. “But to begin with, you must be exhausted. Sit by the fire and eat something. We'll talk about tasks later.”

The magician followed the woman with his eyes. Wilson approached him to ask something, but Maxwell did not hear. He just crawled into his tent and stayed there until dark.

..........................................

It was a full moon night, which indicated that the camp could save firewood. Wilson was just finishing drawing some blueprints when he felt a look on his back.

"Oh, good night, Miss Adams." he smiled warmly. "Are you not going to sleep?"

"Don't you need me to do something?"

“Oh, please! You've done so much today... and you just arrived! Please go to rest.”

"I don't want to rest." she frowned, annoyed.

"Uh..." the scientist was not sure how to answer this. "Well, I... I suppose you can... ah..."

"Sorry." she whispered, sighing and sitting next to Wilson. “Sorry, I… today was a tough day. Perhaps the most difficult day since the first one I ended up here.”

The two were silent for a few moments. Wilson put the incomplete blueprint in the chest and asked the infamous question:

"Are you Charlie's sister?"

"So, do you know her too?"

"Yes." the scientist turned his face away. "Maxwell told me the whole story."

“What story?! I want to know!" she exclaimed, irritated, but then shook her head. “Ugh, sorry! But... well, yes, I'm Charlotte Adams' older sister.”

“Hmmm, I can tell you what I know. But first, could you tell me your side of the story?”

"Fine. Charlie disappeared during the San Francisco earthquake in 1906. Everyone believed that she, as well as the man she worked for... Maxwel... were dead. But I never gave up looking for her. Even if it was her body! And when I started doing my investigations, I discovered that there was something wrong with the story. Something involving magic... real magic, not the nonsense we see in circuses. And, during my research, I discovered that a man named Wagstaff had built an electronic device that had supernatural powers... ”

“Ah! The Voxola radio?! ” Wilson's eyes widened. “Yes, I have one of these devices! But they were discontinued when the factory closed two years ago, in 1919.”

The woman turned to the scientist with disbelief in her eyes.

"Two years ago? Has it been that long?”

"Oh, actuall ..." Wilson scratched his head. “... the way time spends at Constant is a little different. But please, don't let me interrupt you. Continue."

“Well, I looked for work at his factory and he accepted me. He was a good boss, albeit a little weird. He had some ideas about parallel dimensions and things like that. He claimed that the San Francisco earthquake was not caused by forces of nature, but by some artificial factor. I told him about Charlie's disappearance and he was interested. One day, he asked me for help to build a portal.”

Wilson bit his tongue, preventing himself from interrupting the woman again.

“We built it, but things didn't go as planned. Wagstaff... disappeared! And on the portal, I could see... ”she swallowed, controlling her emotion. “... I could see Charlie! My baby sister! After a hole decade, I was able to see her again! But... but she was... different!"

The scientist nodded understandingly.

“Charlie was there, in front of me! But she was no longer herself, she looked like a monster! And then I... I ended up here. In this crazy place where everything seems to want to kill you! To make it worse I... ” the woman looked very emotional, but she controlled her tears. “... I’m almost sure that the monster lurking in the darkness is her! Charlie! She... she killed me once. I thought it was the end of me, but I was able to resurrect thanks to a strange stone that I had found before.”

"Mmm." Wilson murmured. “Yes, I'm afraid you're right, the monster that attacks in the dark is Charlie. And at the moment, she is the queen of this place.”

"The Queen?! It makes no sense! How did this happen?! ”

“Well, I think it's time for me to tell my side of the story. And also the part that Maxwell told me.”

And that's what Wilson did. When he finished his narrative, the day was already clearing.

"So... it was all his fault!" Winona clenched her fists.

“Hey, calm down! He didn't want to bring anyone to Constant, he was manipulated by Them! He didn't do it on purpose!”

"When an accident occurs in a factory, it makes no difference whether it was intentional or not! Whoever caused the accident is still guilty, by negligence or stupidity!"

“Listen, I understand that you hate him. I also hated him for a long time, but at the moment we need... ”

"You don't hate him anymore ?!" the woman looked dumbfounded. “From what you told me, he made your life hell! Perhaps your life more than anyone else's here. And yet, don't you hate him?”

“Hating him is not going to help me in the present situation. And I know it's hard to believe, but Maxwell is a good person.”

"From what I heard from others, he is a lazy egomaniac!"

“Yes, he’s not one of the easiest people to deal with, but when you learn to ignore cheap taunts and his irritating British sarcasm, he is a very kind, even fun person to have around. And it’s undeniable that his ability with magic is crucial for us to survive and hope to get out of here.”

"Tsk." the handywoman shook her head, still not convinced. “Okay, I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt. But I will not be friends with him! And even if we ever get out of here, I will never recognize him as my brother-in-law!”

Wilson opened his mouth, discredited.

"What's it?" Winona raised an eyebrow.

"W-wait there." he raised his hands, defensively. “I knew Maxwell and Charlie were dating, but... did they intend to get married? Were they engaged?”

"Why? They aren’t?”

“Maxwell didn't tell me that! He just said that the two had a... relationship beyond the professional, but nothing more."

An expression of fury passed over Winona's face, but it soon disappeared when she took a long breath.

"Ugh... well, I guess she didn't have time."

"Didn't she have time for what?"

"You know." she turned to Wilson. “The last letter I received from Charlie was dated April 16, 1906, the day before she disappeared. In this letter, in a bittersweet tone, she confided to me that she needed to have a serious conversation with ‘Maxy’, but that she wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. And she was asking me for a word of encouragement.”

"What she was going to tell Maxwell?"

"That she was pregnant."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, folks! Here's my gift for you!

Maxwell wanted to sleep, but he was not capable of that.

The magician was rolling on his straw mat, uncomfortable, impatient, disturbed. He wanted someone to hit him on the head to knock him unconscious for a few hours. Wilson probably wouldn't make his wish come true, but Winona certainly would. And it would still leave him with permanent brain damage.

He wanted to stop thinking about Charlie. He wanted someone to pierce his skull and pull out the piece of brain matter that contained the piece of memory of his unfortunate assistant. He didn't want to remember that moment... no, he didn't want...

The last show. Darkness kidnapping them into the Constat. Their presence... the attack... her death in front of him...

No, he didn't want to remember that.

He ran his long fingers over his face, touching his closed lids with his index and middle fingers. If he invoked his black claws, could he pierce his eyes and kill himself? Probably yes, but what good would that do? He would just waste a meat effigy. And even if there were no more resources for resuscitation, nothing would stop them from bringing him back to life, as they did when he withered to dust when Wilson freed him from the throne.

Perhaps it was not They who raised him from the ashes, but Charlie. Yes, there was that possibility. Was she taking her revenge not to kill the magician, but to make him continue to live in that torment of guilt and deep remorse?

If that was the reason, then he wouldn’t deny her the only pleasure she had left.

Shortly after he was released from the throne and Their voices no longer filled most of his thoughts, Maxwell used to think about Charlie a lot. In bad times, in the few good times, in the days of hard work and in the days of recreation. She was the shadow - in literal and non-literal sense - that was always in the corner of his mind. And thinking about her, came deep regret, it was painful.

But recently, he began to realize that another face filled his thoughts.

Higgsbury tried to beat him blue when he saw the magician approaching his camp the first time. Fair enough. And for a long time Maxwell was almost comfortable with the presence of a possible threat on his head all the time. The mental energy he spent having to be on the alert always, to prevent the scientist from catching him off guard with an axe in hand, was a secret pleasure. There is nothing better for you to stop thinking about the past or the future than a constant death threat in the present.

But little by little, as more survivors joined them, and survival at Constant started to get easier, once again Maxwell's mind began to wander in other ways. And these paths always led to Charlie, most of the time... but, at the same time, the final destination of the thought trail began to change.

Absently, Maxwell found himself thinking of Higgsbury. No longer in the form of constant worry or discomfort, but in the form of a valued ally and friend. The two trusted each other almost instinctively by now. Perhaps the magician still had some reservations and doubts, but everything changed when the scientist expressed everything he had to say after that argument, almost two months ago, about the best use of Life Amulets and about him being able to count on the help of others survivors when he was in need. The way Wilson said it, those words:

_“I guess you can consider me your backup then. Honestly it’s ridiculous that I even have to say it aloud after I’ve effectively been your backup for God knows how long, but I guess you might benefit from hearing it. I’m not going to leave you behind, or ignore a request for materials or assistance, if only you can find it in yourself to spare two minutes to motivate it. Just ask me, if you don’t feel like asking the others. And for heaven’s sake, take this and wear it! Don’t break it! Don’t repurpose it! Just wear it!”_

Did he care that much if Maxwell, his former kidnapper, would stay alive? The magician came to believe - he needed to believe - that the reason for him to being keep alive was only practical. He was the only one who knew how to cast spells there, so Higgsbury needed to keep him breathing.

But the way Wilson outright slipped the amulet around Maxwell’s neck, pressing it firmly against his chest... that made the magician feel warm inside. Protected. Desired, even. Of course, those assumptions were absurd, though. Of course the scientist continued to hate him for everything he did.

_"Who told you that I hate you, Maxwell?!"_

That desperation in the voice, that sadness on the face... that hurts.

But it was better this way. Higgsbury had better keep his stupid ideas of affection and love away from Maxwell, for the scientist's own sake. After all, the Englishman had destroyed the life of the last person he dared to love. And he definitely didn't want the same thing to happen again.

It would be better for everyone, especially for Wendy and Wilson, the two people who were dearest to Maxwell at the moment, to keep their distance as much as possible.

The tent opened, letting in the sunlight and bathing the magician's face. Was it day already? Maxwell didn't even see the time go by. At least, now, he could be distracted by other things than thinking about Charlie or thinking about...

"Higgsbury?"

The scientist was kneeling at the entrance to the tent, looking at the magician with a strange expression. It was hard to say in the backlight, but he looked... shocked.

"What is it, pal?" Maxwell raised an accusatory eyebrow. Since the incident involving excessive caresses at the time of the medical examination, the scientist hadn’t even passed in front of Maxwell's tent, pretending that nothing had happened. And Maxwell was happy to pretend the same. “Did someone die?"

Wilson didn’t answer and his expression didn’t change. The magician sat up, worried.

“Hey, what's up? Why are you making this face? What the hell happened?! "

"Maxwell..." he murmured, swallowing twice. "I t-think... that you should talk to Winona..."

"I don't want to talk to that woman!" the magician spat, lying down again and covering his head with the blanket, like a sulky child. "If she wants to broke my neck, at least she must have the trouble to come to me!"

"Maxwell..."

The scientist's hand touched his hip. The warmth of his hand was pleasant, but the magician just moved his body, getting rid of the touch of that hand that he secretly enjoyed.

He was silent, waiting for the scientist to insist on that absurd proposal again. What reasons would Maxwell have to talk to Charlie's sister if it wasn't just a scene with a lot of drama and a few punches? The two had better ignore each other.

The magician heard the sound of the scientist leaving his tent without insisting. That was unexpected and only added to the concern.

..............................

Winona remembered how much she laughed when Charlie sent her a photo of 'Maxy' by letter.

Well, she wasn’t the superficial type who judged people by appearance, but she could never thought that that big lanky fellow would delight her sister so much. Well, maybe he really was the wonderful, fun, kind and intelligent person that Charlie talked about so much. This was certainly worth much more than physical beauty. And she was happy that her sister found her chosen one.

And then, two days after the fateful San Francisco earthquake, Charlie's last letter had arrived. Winona had already cried a lot while waiting for some news, some hope that her sister was alive. The letter made her have hope, but then she discovered that it had been sent before the quake.

And the news that Charlie informed her only added to the tragedy of the situation. On the same day, Winona had lost her sister, her future brother-in-law and her future nephew or niece.

She regretted that she had postponed her trip so much to see her sister and meet Maxwell. Charlie was categorical in saying that the two would get along very well, as they were very stubborn, but at the same time they had a firm character and, after broke the hard shell, both were soft and adorable inside.

Could Winona's visit have changed anything? Could she, before the earthquake, have convinced them to leave town and visit her home in Oregon? Could that tragedy have been avoided? Of course, those questions were imponderable and everyone who heard her was categorical in telling Winona that it wasn't her fault, it wasn't anyone's fault, it was just a fatality.

What if it hadn't been?

When she went to San Francisco looking for answers, she heard reports from people who were at the Amazing Maxwell show - not the last one, since everyone had died that day - and who reported that their magic tricks were incredibly real. He also heard reports that when search teams removed the wreckage from the theatre, they found neither Charlie nor Maxwell's body. There was also an inconsistency in the schedules, as the show was held on the evening of the 17th, while the earthquake occurred in the early hours of the 18th.

What if that hadn't just been a fatality?

For thirteen years, Winona tried to find answers. And they took her to a trail of strange disappearances that have occurred over the years. Some of it involving the presence of a Voxola radio. And it all took her to the Wagstaff factory, until the accident.

It wasn’t a simple fatality.

While thinking about it, still lying on the bed roll after the long day at work, the handywoman began to hear footsteps approaching. She had already been camping with those people for a week, and although they were all kind and helpful, she was still a little suspicious. Especially because of the presence of one of them.

And speaking of the devil.

"What do you want?" she asked, annoyed.

"Many things." was the arrogant Englishman's reply, putting his hands behind his back. “And talking to you is not among them, Miss Adams, but I'm afraid I have no choice. It's been seven days... it's no longer possible to ignore the elephant in the room.”

"Humpf, it's true." Winona sat up and rubbed her eyes. She still didn't have a tent of her own and she vehemently refused to take anyone else's tent, saying she was perfectly fine sleeping outside - as long as it wasn't raining. “Wilson told me his part of the story. At least the part you told him.”

"So he told you very little." Maxwell shook his head. He sat on the ground with his legs crossed. “But Charlie told me a lot about you. She told me how much her older sister was the light of inspiration in her life. How brave you were to defy the dictates that a girl shouldn’t leave her parents' house until after she is married. That having a job was not something you'd expect from a respectable woman. You defied all of this and therefore gave Charlie the courage to be who she was.”

"Heh, I don't know if I should be proud of that." Winona made a face. “I never wanted to be an example to anyone, I just wanted to mind my own business. But when Charlie announced that she was leaving our parents' house to get a job in San Francisco, I encouraged her. Heavily. Even though I was concerned that she might fall into the clutches of some malicious seducer.”

The two stared at each other for a long time, Maxwell smiled.

“It wasn't me who took the initiative, if you're interested in knowing. My convictions of being an eternal bachelor were solid when I came from England to the United States in 1901. I was a shy, meek and weak man, unable to speak to girls without swallowing my own tongue. But I felt powerful when I was on stage. Although I had hopes that I could still find someone to love me, that wasn’t at the top of my priorities.”

“You don't look like a shy man to me. Weak, perhaps, but not at all meek.”

"I was very different before I came to San Francisco."

"Ah, yes... your spellbook." Winona rubbed her forehead. This part she already knew. "You told Wilson that you changed when you started practicing magic, although you didn't work it out well."

“In fact, and I believe that there is no need to elaborate. You may find it ironic, but I also had a brother... younger, however. He was also my inspiration to come to America and make my dream come true. He even lent me money for my ticket to New York, and when things went wrong there, he offered me shelter at his home on the west coast.”

"Really? And what did you do to thank him?”

"I kidnapped her only daughter for this place."

The handywoman almost fell backwards. She had to lean on her hands while absorbing that information.

"You are a monster!"

"And you are very observant." the man said, without being bothered. “But, continuing with my narrative, I met Charlie in 1905. I hired her as my stage assistant. We both worked together for several months. Lovely little thing she was. And very brave. She was not afraid of my manners, nor did she seem to mind my arrogant personality. On the contrary, she seemed to enjoy it. And I, little by little, also started to fall in love with her... until...”

"Until you hump her."

Maxwell looked surprised, but nodded.

"I see that she told you everything."

"Yes..." Winona bit the inside of her mouth. "... but she didn't tell you _everything_ , did she?"

“We had different conversations, about family, about work, about politics and about the world. I suppose we were very open to each other.”

"This is not what I'm talking about."

Once again, Maxwell was surprised. And, along with the surprise, there was also the concern.

"I..." she stopped, swallowing. "What was the last conversation you two had?"

"I suppose it was a quick conversation before our last show."

"And what did you two talk about?"

“Oh, the usual. We talked about the show, about the audience, and agreed that we would go to my apartment after that.”

Winona took a long, deep breath. _Should I tell him? Does it make a difference at this point?_ Her silence made the magician uncomfortable.

"Miss Adams." the Englishman's voice grew more serious. “I think you have some very important information about Charlie that I don't have. Please tell me what it is.”

"First, let me ask you a question." the woman straightened her back and pointed an accusing finger at the magician. "Did you love Charlie?"

"Of course I loved her. Actually, I still love her."

The answer was quick and sincere, without hesitation. From the look on his face, Maxwell even seemed offended by the handywoman asking him such an obvious question.

“And what were your intentions for her? Were you thinking about getting married? Would you like to live with Charlie? Build a family?”

“Oh, dear… it never crossed my mind because, to me, it seemed impossible that she would accept me as a husband. Charlie was a beautiful, brave, charming and intelligent girl. She confessed to me that I was the first man she slept with, but not for a minute did I believe I was in a position to keep her by my side for a long time. That beautiful girl was made to reach higher flights, not to be the wife and assistant of a burlesque magician for the rest of her life. In fact, I was always half expecting that, on any of these nights, I would see her walk arm in arm with a more handsome, young and strong bloke.” Maxwell frowned and turned away, uncomfortable. “I was already prepared to be abandoned and, to be honest, I would wish her all the luck in the world in her new love affairs. So, my answer to your question is: no. I never thought about marrying Charlie, not because I wouldn't like it, but because I thought it was totally out of my reality.”

“But what if it was _she_ who asked you to marry her? After all, she took the initiative first, didn't she?”

"Oh." the magician smiled wistfully. “Yes, I don't doubt that Charlie was audacious enough to do that. Not with me, however. But, let's suppose she proposed to me... yes, of course I would said yes. I would gladly accept and be the happiest man in the world.”

Those words almost made Winona cry. Now she could understand what Wilson meant. Although that skinny Englishman was a pain in the ass, he had a soft, lovable side. There was no lie in his eyes and the affectionate way he spoke of her baby sister made the woman convinced himself that he really loved her. If the circumstances were different, Winona would really love to have him as a brother-in-law.

"Ugh, damn it!" she had to wipe away a tear that escaped her eyes. "Maxy... Charlie wrote me a last letter where she... she wanted to tell you something."

"Was she really going to propose to me?!" he opened his eyes wide.

"I would say the wedding would be a consequence, but not the main topic of conversation."

"What do you mean?"

"Maxy." she forced herself to look him in the eye. “Charlie was pregnant. She would tell you that she was pregnant in April of that year.”

For a moment, the handywoman thought that the words had not escaped her lips, as the magician's expression did not change.

"Say it again." he spoke almost in a whisper. The expression on his face was disturbingly blank.

"Charlie was pregnant." Winona repeated, in a clear voice.

The magician's skin turned to white. All the blood on his face seemed to disappear at once. He began to rummage his long, pale fingers in his lap. His chest was visibly moving back and forth, indicating that it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to breathe.

"You’re lying." he said, in a voice that was still without emotion, although his whole body said otherwise.

“I have no reason to lie. Much less Charlie would have reason to lie to me. She wrote to me...”

"You’re _lying_!" the voice came out a little louder and with a hint of despair.

"No I'm not! She wanted to tell you before, but she was with... ”

" _You’re LYING!!!_ "

The man got up. The long body tilted forward, an expression that mixed fury and anguish at the same time. Breath breathed like that of a fierce predator, clawed hands and wide eyes.

Winona was never afraid of any man in her life, not even her own father. But she was terrified of Maxwell. He no longer seemed to be that pompous skinny who made everyone laugh. No, now he looked like a demon... a monster!

A monster that, even unintentionally, took her baby sister from her.

The handywoman tried to focus on this thought to build up courage, to get up and tell the Englishman that she was not a liar. Maybe even punch him in the face, as she has been wanting to do since she got there, but... but...

... the magician himself took charge of wounding his own face. His long nails (since when his nails where that long?! And black, too!) scratched his own face from the forehead to the middle of the cheeks. He let out an agonized yelp that didn't seem to be due to the pain of the wounds, but a much deeper internal pain.

He turned and ran out of camp, under the frightened gaze of Wolfgang and Webber, who were doing some chores. They turned to the woman for answers.

Winona was already sorry for telling him anything. And, for the first time, she really fell pity for him.


	6. Chapter 6

William Carter didn’t like going to church on Sunday mornings.

Not that he had a choice, of course. Neither he nor Jack. The two were small boys being dragged by their parents, dressed in their Sunday Best, having to hear the preacher's sermon whether they liked it or not.

Young William always though the Bible stories scary: murder, incest, revenge, curses... he couldn't understand how some people thought Alice in Wonderland was a 'heavy' reading for children, because it had a queen who likes to cut everyone's head, and still allow the little ones to go to church to hear those horrible stories?

Although he did not grow up to become a religious man, William ended up developing a kind of Christian guilt at an early age. Perhaps, because he was the older brother of the twins, he was always in charge of looking after Jack. But the two boys always got into trouble and came back hurt, and Will took the blame. He ended up becoming an adult who, at the slightest sign of offense, always dissolved into excuses. A weak person.

But they were all right all the time, right? The fault was always with William Carter. Didn't the show make money? It was his fault. Didn't him pay off the debts with the mafia? It was his fault. Did the train derail on the tracks? Oh, somehow, it should be his fault.

When William left his former persona and became Maxwell, he believed he could leave that past behind. He believed he could become a chiller, more calculating man and focused on his own personal goals. He wouldn't care about anything or anyone else. He would go over everyone, if need be, to get everything he wanted.

And that is exactly what he did.

The Amazing Maxwell: cabaret's magician, vaudevillian, scoundrel, mage of darkness, black king, deceiver, kidnapper, murderer and... filicidal.

He was responsible for the death of his own child.

The image of Charlie being killed in front of him as soon as they arrived at Constant, now, seemed to carry a much more devastating weight. The panic, the despair, the feel of her hot blood splashing across his face...

... and the bargain.

_Be a king, your majesty! And you can rule the world! You can even order Charlie to come back to life!_

And he accepted the bargain.

For a time he was barely able to count, Maxwell was imprisoned at the Nightmare Throne. For years, They manipulated his emotions and forced him to kidnap people for Constant, forced them to join the Game and fight and die within that hostile environment. Many died. Others died, but returned. Others have not returned.

_Charlie... where was Charlie? They had promised that They would bring her back!_

And they brought her back...

... but very different from what she was before.

It was getting dark.

Maxwell walked aimlessly through Constant. He felt his legs hurt and the skin on his face sting. He felt tired and sore, but he couldn't stop walking. Out of the corner of his eye, he could already see the nightmare creatures approaching. There were only little distance left for them to reach him and break him into pieces.

And he wanted that to happen.

 _Charlie, sweet Charlie, you were spying, right?_ At that very moment she was just waiting for the night to finally fall to get her king back. To rip him in half, just as They did to her.

 _They knew...?!_ it was the only thought that Maxwell managed to form coherently in his mind, which was about to fall over the precipice _. Did they know that Charlie was waiting a child? OUR child?!_

No, They shouldn't know. Otherwise, the magician was sure that They would use the child to further torment the King Trapped in the Board, bring the kid back as a monster or something. But now was too late, even for Them. Because even They cannot control the ones who are gone forever, like Abigail. When Charlie was torn in half, the creatures shouldn't even have worried if there was anything different in her womb, they just killed her.

That was it.

They never knew about his child and Charlie's... they never knew! At least THAT Maxwell managed to trick them. A miserable victory in an eternal collection of failures.

And Maxwell started to laugh.

Laughing, like a ferocious mad man.

"Hahaha!

HaHaHaHaHaHa!!!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

 _I tricked Them! I cheated the Darkness! They never knew... never!_ Maxwell's face was starting to turn blue from laughing so much, without pausing to breathe. _I cheated them! I FOOLED THEM!!! I managed to deceive the Darkness!!!_

_Ah..._

_... what darkness did I deceive? Theirs, the ones inside me?_

_Where does Darkness begin and do I end?_

Before he passed out from breathlessness, Maxwell fell to his knees. His battered lungs sucked in air with difficulty. His legs were sore after walking for miles and miles aimlessly. There was blood on his hands. His own blood, after deeply scratching his face with his own nails.

His blood.

HIS… BLOOD…

 _Failure… death… is my destiny. It’s in my BLOOD! It's my inheritance!_ he thought, with what little strength he had left to cry. _No Carter in my family had a happy life, did they? My parents were not happy, nor were my grandparents. My brother lost a daughter ... no, two daughters! And I... heh... what about me?_

_Death, only **death**._

_Mine and what's left of my blood!_

_I see now the virtue in death, for this country knows no law and no boundary! A devastated land where it is no longer necessary to worry about laughter, crying, goals, hope... nothing! These are the Gates of Hell where all hope must be abandoned. Only death… death and silence._

_Silence? What the...?!_

_Choir! A chorus of singing voices! But who ...?_

Maxwell turns his head. His sanity is almost at the limit and, in the middle of the forest, he sees human forms approaching him. Children. Dozens of them. The girls look like Wendy, but they all have black hair and green eyes - like Charlie's. The boys are disturbingly similar to Jack and William when they were children.

These are the children that Maxwell and Charlie will never have. All of them dressed in black, with horrible wounds on their bodies. Some of them have severed hands, pierced eyes, cracked skulls, open abdomen... all of them singing in a chorus of distorted voices, singing in ignominy a sick parody for the magician:

God save our **ungracious** King!

Long live our **dark** King!

 **God** save the King… _‘cause **THEY WILL NOT**_

Send him **defeated**

 **Repent** and **unglorious**

Long to reign over us, the dead!

God save the King… _‘cause **THEY WILL NOT**_

O Lord, our God arise

 **Assemble** his enemies

and make **him FALL!**

It's too much, _too much!_

Maxwell would pierce his eardrums if he could control his own arms, but he doesn't. He can't even get up. He is prostrate on the floor, his face in the dirt, the weight and pain of his immeasurable guilt crushing his bones and draining the little sanity that remains in him until there is nothing left.

Nothing.

Oh, but something is left: the Darkness.

And night fell.

Ironically, it’s the lack of light that makes the magician's sanity return a little. He struggles off the ground, dirty with filth and saliva. He drooled while raving and can't find the strength to even clean himself. And why would he waste time on that?

If he dies, he'll come back... he knows that. But at the same time, he believes that Charlie would be a little happier if she could rip his heart out and tear it to pieces that night. Then he stood there, looking around without really seeing anything.

"Charlie..." he murmured, as he heard her approach in the darkness. "Charlie... why didn't you tell me about the child?"

The attack should have happened at that time, but it didn't. There was a delay. Was she understanding what he was saying? For the first time in months, years, could she finally understand what he was talking about?

"Our child, Charlie..." his voice shook. “I… I would have been happy! I would have been very happy! If you had told me that night, I... I would have been able to cancel our last show and go out with you to celebrate! God, I would be able to drop absolutely everything for you and our future family!”

One more delay. Maxwell never managed to stay alive for so long in the dark.

“The Darkness, They told me, when you died, that They could bring you back... but They didn't bring the child inside you, did they? Well... at least that... They cannot torment another soul even more... ”

_HHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!_

A loud, furious hiss erupted in the night, but there was still no attack.

Didn't she remember that too? Did Maxwell unintentionally bring back the pain of losing a child to his former love? Maybe he should have just been quiet, waiting to die.

No, he wouldn't be silent. No more.

"Charlie ..." he stammered, tears in his eyes blinded by the darkness. “Charlie, I know it's my fault! _Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!_ I plead... guilty! Do what you want with me, for as long as you want... for as long as your pain lasts! Don't restrict yourself! Do as you will! There is no one else in this world who will be happy with my presence, in this world and the next.”

_Nobody, absolutely nobody._

_Or maybe...?_

The blow was strong and quick, although it didn’t catch a vital area. Maxwell felt his body swirl in the air. The wet sensation of his blood washing his last suit, the searing pain in his flesh that, if he were honest, was still pale in comparison to the pain he felt in his soul.

The magician fell to the ground, out of breath. He couldn't even say anything to Charlie, one last goodbye, maybe? Even if he lives again, he would never speak to her anymore, he didn't have this right.

_Charlie... **I'm sorry!**_

But the final blow never came.

_What...?_

Maxwell opened his eyes, still unfocused. He knew that there was a light before him. A torch? No, it was a lantern. Who could have left a lantern there? In any case, it was this source of light that saved him from Charlie's final blow... unfortunately.

His other senses begin to return little by little. The touch sense reveals that he is sore from head to toe and that there is a weight on his back. His tongue and nose bring the smell and taste of blood. And the hearing informs him that there is a person above him. Someone who grabs him hard while sobbing softly. It’s a voice that he knows very well.

"Crazy old _sonova...!!!_ " the voice cries out and broke in a whimpering tone.

......................................................

_Pooof!_ Another experiment exploded.

"Blast it!" the scientist ran a hand over his sooty face. “Well, at least the explosion was less loud this time. And this smell of residual peroxide indicates that oxidation has taken place. Now, let's look at the density of the mixture.”

Wilson started making notes in his notebook while swinging the glass of colorless viscous solution. He didn't quite remember what kind of experiment he was doing, but he knew it was important. And he knew it was better for him to hurry up to not be interrupted.

 _Interrupted by whom?_ he thought, for he was sure he had lived alone in his cabin for years.

A pair of arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him close. The scientist dropped the pen and didn’t turn around, feeling pleasant heat when his body touched another body behind him. An unusual situation, as he should be scared to have his house invaded by a stranger ...

"Say, pal!" someone rubbed his hand over the scientist's dirty hair. "You don't look so good!"

"Maxwell!" huge joy washed over Wilson. He turned over and wrapped the taller man's neck in his arms, kissing him. "You...!" he parted his lips just so he could speak, before kissing him again. "...you came!"

"Where else would I go, you silly nerd?" the magician took his face in his hands and deepened the kiss, moving away before their excitement knocked over all the instruments on the table. "We are together now, have you forgotten?"

"Oh yeah?" that phrase seemed plausible.

Some forgotten corner of the scientist's mind reminded him that all the survivors had managed to escape from Constant. They all went back to their respective times, just a few days before. Wigfrid, Wendy, Webber, Wickerbotton... everyone was back.

And another part of Wilson's mind had the record that the only ones who hadn't been able to get back to their time time were Charlie and Maxwell. But this was not a problem, as Charlie returned to 1919 with her sister Winona and the two were living and working together. And Maxwell was now living with Wilson in 1921.

The scientist smiled widely as he remembered this. A wonderful memory! Although he felt that something was _out of place_.

"You’re so handsome!" Wilson said, taking a step back and watching the magician. He was wearing a black suit, with a leather overcoat, a red tie, and shiny Oxford shoes. Maxwell was breathtaking, more attractive than ever. And his face was fine, he looked even younger.

"Well, I have to be presentable for my shows, don't I?"

"Ah, yes..." the scientist scratched his head doubtfully. _Something out of place_ "And... uh... how was the show tonight?"

“It was good, although it would be easier if we lived closer to the city. Seriously, Wilson! Almost an hour of driving on mud roads here every weekend? If you continue like this, I will be forced to rent an apartment in the downtown while you stay here taking care of your experiments.”

"Oh, no sir!" the shorter man protested and hugged Maxwell. “I don't want to sleep away from you for one night! I want you close to me every day!”

Maxwell rolled his eyes but smiled tenderly. He leaned over and kissed Wilson, wrapping his body around his long limbs.

"Of course, you're going to have me every day, pal." he brushed the scientist's cheeks with his lustful lips, murmuring in a low, sensual tone. "I am yours, as long as you want me."

"Hmmm, I ..." he was not a man who expressed himself emotionally in words easily, but the heat of the magician's body, his voice, the libido that started to grow at the base of his stomach ... all of it collaborated with Higgsbury to let go. “I will want you for the rest of my life, love. For the rest. Of my. Life."

And it was that the moment the scientist woke up.

_What?!_

When he opened his eyes, the morning sun was shining on his face. Getting up bewildered, Wilson tried to understand how he got here.

"Ah... M-m-maxwell? Maxwel!!!”

He jumped up and looked around. Fortunately, the Englishman was not far off, just a few feet apart, lying on his back in an improvised bed roll. The memory of the night before started to come back to him, casting out the wonderful dream he had just had.

 _A good dream?! But why?!_ tears streamed down Wilson's face as he remembered his dream fantasy. _I don't remember any good dreams I've had since I set foot here! The others were filled with fear, terror, violence and... brutal lust! I've never had a good dream like this in ages! A dream where I am back home, happy, taking care of my work and... and having someone I love by my side! Safe! Happy! Both of us!_

And it was at that time that Higgsbury realized that he would rather have had a nightmare every day. Being dragged back to reality after such a wonderful dream was too cruel.

The good news was that Maxwell survived the night, Wilson could hardly believe it.

Of course, the Life Amulet that belonged to Wilson, and that he almost tied with a knot around the magician's neck, helped. The tall man lost his one since the deerclops incident. Wilson’s mistake, of course. The stubborn reckless Brit needs one as far he needs to breath (and keep breathing!). From then on, Wilson knew that this should be his priority. As soon as he woke up, he would check _: Is Maxwell using the damn Life Amulet? Is Maxwell close by? Isn’t the pigheaded, suicidal old man trying to find any more creative ways to kill himself today?_ These would be the first things the scientist would check before doing his morning hygiene and the last before going to sleep.

Maxwell still hadn't woken up. The tall man seemed to be sleeping soundly - even though Wilson knew that, technically, he did not sleep - curled up on the cover the scientist brought in his backpack. His clothes were in pieces again. That had been his last suit. From then on, he would no longer be as elegant as the rest of the survivors.

Wilson hoped this was not a new reason to make the Englishman want to kill himself. Not that there wasn't enough, of course.

While searching for Maxwell in the darkness, Wilson could hear the night creature's growl and the magician's disturbed voice. The two were... talking? The scientist knew that Charlie was capable of brief moments of lucidity, as when she freed him from the throne, but he did not imagine that she could be called to reason while she was the creature in the darkness.

Oh, Wilson heard what they said... what a tragedy. Why did things have to be this way?

But the scientist couldn't change the past. It was impossible. The best he could do was try to make the future better. And above all, try to convince Maxwell that he still had a future ahead of him, though.

The tall man began to move, awakening painfully back to the world of the living. Wilson sat down next to him and held his hand. If he were in his power, the scientist would do this every morning and would never allow Maxwell to wake up alone again.

"Nghhh... ah...?" he looked up, confused to see the younger man there.

"Good morning, you..." Wilson took a long breath. “I don't know more than to call you, seriously. Crazy? Insane? Suicidal? Pain in the ass?”

"Call me... Maxwell."

"Good." Wilson couldn't help but smile. “You got your mood back enough to make a joke. Well, not that you or Wendy lose that macabre sense of humor even in the worst hours, but still... ” the smile fell apart and the scientist absently rubbed his thumb over the magician's long fingers. “... still, try to stay alive for a whole month, okay? Please, Maxwell... ” his voice grew quieter. "... please."

The magician closed his eyes. He put his hand on his neck, feeling the amulet chain on his skin. The wounds he received the night before had already been healed and he started to remove the amulet.

"No!" Wilson stopped him. “Don't even dream of it, Maxy! You will no longer walk around without an life amulet! ”

"Higgsbury..."

"It's my final word!"

The magician grimaced, he seems too weak to get into an argument. After a few moments, he sighs and speaks, in a clemency.

“Let me die, please. Before... ” he sighs. "... before it gets worse for you."

Wilson can't cope anymore.

He just can't.

Without even thinking, he wraps the older man in his arms. He is crying. He can't help it. He is crying with sadness and anger at the same time. How can Wilson want to keep the source of all his sadness and hatred close to his body?

"I-I c-cannot." the scientist stutters. “I c-can't, I... no! I can't! Don't do this to me, Maxwell. Please! If you want to die, then let me die with you! ”

The magician seems to have let out a cry of protest at that sentence. He tries to break free of Wilson's arms, but fails. The grip is stronger than him and, in addition, he seems to feel good sharing heat.

"I have already brought ruin to several people." he murmurs, leaning his head on the younger man's chest, like a resigned cat on the lap of an irritating owner. “I already brought ruin for _you._.. and I will bring even more if you get even closer to me. You... you shouldn't... "

"This decision is not yours." Wilson cut him off, rubbing his nose and trying to contain his tears. “I already know, firsthand, all the horrors that can come from you, Maxwell. Maybe there are worse ones that I haven't seen? I don’t doubt! But this is a decision that I am making of my own free will, knowing what can happen."

"Ugh!" this time the magician got rid of the scientist's arms. "You... you already know what happened to me and Charlie, don't you? Did you hear... did you _see_! I destroyed her! With my own hands! ” he raised his hands for emphasis. “I would love to be half as insensitive as others tell me I am... in fact, I would love to no longer have the ability to feel anything! Nothing! But what I did to Charlie... what I did to my brother and niece... what I did to all of you... can get worse! Much worse!"

"I know you blame yourself for what happened, but we...!"

“Hah, 'blame' is too weak word! There may not be a word, in any language invented by humanity, that can come close to what I feel!”

"Then let me help you with this pain!" Wilson insisted. “You don't have to carry this burden alone, you don't have to feel guilty alone! Please, let me stay by your side! Let me show you that a lot of good can still come from you, Maxwell! Lots of! If you are not yet the man without feelings you would like to be, so much the better! That means you can still do good! This means that you can still repair at least part of your mistakes! Maxwell... ” he held the magician's hands tightly. “... allow others to help you with this. Let _me_ help you with that! Please... ” he lowered his head. "... if you really don't want others to suffer anymore, then don't let me suffer by staying away from you!"

The two men were silent, holding each other's hands, unable to let go. It was after a long pause that the magician finally spoke:

“I don't want you to suffer. But... I also don't want to suffer any more of guilt when something bad does happen to you. That's why I prefer to stay away. Do you understand this? ”

Wilson frowned. He released the magician's hands and held him in the face, looking him in the eye.

"Listen here, you big, old fool." his voice was firmer than ever. “I cannot guarantee that things will end well. Neither you nor I can guarantee this. But I want you to understand one thing, once and for all: nothing, absolutely nothing that happens to me, from now on, it will be your fault! It's my choice, and mine alone, to love you and take all the risks! It doesn't matter what They play against us! Understand here and now that I love you and that I will fight with all my strength to make you happy! All of it! Both guaranteeing my protection and yours! ” he paused and, just at that moment, his voice shook a little. “I don't want you to suffer... but... but being away from you will cause me immense suffering, Max! And I know... I know that taking all this guilt you carry is too heavy a burden, so let me help you with this burden! Even if, one day, this burden breaks my back, it will still be my choice! And I choose to have at least a chance of happiness at your side, than the certainty of unhappiness if I stay away from you!”

Wilson hung his head for a moment, waiting for an answer. When it looked like it wasn't coming, he looked up to face the older man.

Maxwell looked defeated. But despite that, there was a smile on his lips. A smile from someone who is happy to be able to stop fighting, even if that meant defeat.

"Then that's it." he raised his dark eyes towards Wilson, they were red with emotion. “So, once again I will dare to love someone. Once again, someone will be brave enough to love me. Heh... even if it could end up in another spiral of guilt and pain. But I'm afraid I don't deserve peace, do I? That's what people say: no rest for the wicked.”

The scientist cannot help laughing a little at this. Leaning his face, he kissed those lips that had been denied him for so long.

It was the best thing Wilson had ever felt in years, decades. It was sweeter than the discovery of a new theory and more triumphant than the satisfaction of seeing an experiment work. That kiss was warm, loving, full of life and hope. A sensation similar to what he felt in his first good dream since he arrived at Constant the night before.

And it was at that time that the scientist realized: _It is not just a dream, it is a promise! It’s a glimpse of the future! We will escape from here! We are going to send everyone home and Maxwell and I... we are going to be together!_

Yes, that was the promise. This was the project. The dream he would make come true. Even if he had to put all of Constant down for that.

While thinking about all these things, Maxwell broke the kiss, albeit a little reluctantly. He chuckled and rested his broad forehead on the scientist's. The two stayed like that for a few moments, catching their breath. After a few more moments, the magician said:

"I love you, Wilson Percival Higgsbury."

Wilson swallowed, feeling like crying again – from happiness this time. But he hugged Maxwell more tightly and said:

“And I love you, William Carter... Maxwell! I love you with all my heart and soul. ” he could feel that the older man's breath had become more breathless and he rubbed his back tenderly. “We are going to escape, Maxwell. Nothing, not even They, will stop us from doing this. People also say that love conquers all.”

"A rather silly thought for a scientist, pal."

“Because it's not just silly thinking, it's a project that I'm going to dedicate myself to with every fiber of my being! And you should already know that there is nothing, in this world or in the next, that can prevent me from reaching my goal!”

"Oh, dear... and I thought that _I_ was the haughty one!"

"I learned that from you, my great king!"

The two laughed and kissed again. Together, in the privacy of the forest, they would enjoy the time they had free that morning before returning to camp.

The path they would have to take back home would be arduous, but they were determined with the most powerful force that the human being could have to achieve their goals.

Love conquers all. And the wicked know no rest, until they finally triumphed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's it!
> 
> I want to thank journalxxx for the wonderful four chapters of the original fic that inspired me to do this! And, who knows, if luck smiles at us... we can see the conclusion of the original fic! This one was more of a palliative.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who accompanied us here! Until next time!


End file.
